


I Feel A Weakness Coming On

by Cloudy



Series: The Devil is a Gentleman [6]
Category: Magic Kaito
Genre: Bad coping mechanisms, Black Org Saguru, M/M, Saguru is self destructive., They're both bad at affection and closeness, Underage Drinking, black org au, kaito is Concerned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudy/pseuds/Cloudy
Summary: Armagnac turns toward some of his more destructive coping mechanisms after a particularly hard day, and attempts to sabotage his growing allyship with Kaito. There are mixed results.
Relationships: Hakuba Saguru/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Series: The Devil is a Gentleman [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097753
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32
Collections: Best Sagukai Fics





	I Feel A Weakness Coming On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Commaeleons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commaeleons/gifts).



> Please know that this is kind of a jump a ways ahead of the other stuff in this series so far. Eventually I'll have some of the in between pieces posted so this one has more context leading up to it ;) Written as a gift for Commaeleons for a gift exchange event in our discord server.

His senses were blunted and his thoughts fogged over. He was not comfortable, but he was numbed against his tumultuous insides, the sense of drowning that came whenever he tried to figure out if all he did was worth it. His grander plans evaded him now and his sense of hopelessness was almost bearable, with how much focus he had to devote to the simple motion of one foot in front of the other.

Cool air on his face, an even and steady pace, smoke burning his lungs. These were the primary objects of his attention—all he could afford, just now. The narrowing of scope was refreshing.

To be Armagnac was to be cold, cunning, hollow. It was being alert and wary and always prepared to perform, to pretend, to deceive. It was to walk the line of _loyalist_ and _traitor_ without ever faltering.

To be Armagnac was bitterly exhausting, and he wished he simply _wasn_ _’t._

There were times when he couldn’t help but think he was conceited, to believe he could burn the organization down. Who was he, to think that he could sway the tide so significantly? Was he really so likely to change things in such a profound way? Wasn’t it infinitely more probable that he might simply do their bidding, be their helpful tool, and then fail before he could change a thing?

Sometimes he feared that the greatest service he could do was bring himself to an end so the organization couldn’t use him anymore. And to continue on anyway was in direct opposition with what little he knew of the common good.

But he’d gone on this long. Climbed this far. It was miserable work, but he knew—even if his plan came to an end before it could begin, there was still damage he could do on his way out. And the more important he made himself, the more damage done to the monster. So no, he couldn’t allow himself to give up. It would be a waste.

But what he wouldn’t give, sometimes, to be able to let it all go.

Just as he was waging a war with the syndicate, this was the war he waged with himself. And moments like these were small allowances. The drunken self-destruction, a truce he made with the weaker parts of himself. No, he couldn’t stop here. But he could acquiesce to some bad decisions. And if the lessening of his reflexes or the clouding of his mind ended him, well. At least there would be no more horrors by his hand.

So far, this habit hadn’t done him in. So he would continue on. One foot in front of the other.

Tomorrow, he would have work to do. He would have to report to Gin and fulfill his duties. He would be Armagnac and he would be at peak performance. As always.

For now, he could be nothing. Nobody.

When he finally let himself focus on something else beyond forcing his steady pace, he realized his feet had brought him somewhere he shouldn’t be. Not right now, not like this. Normally, when he was like this, he took himself somewhere where he could wrap up in anonymity and willing arms. Drown in pure sensation and put himself at the mercy of some unknowing stranger.

That wasn’t where he found himself, this time.

The door to the Kuroba household sat just paces away from him. He put out his cigarette, burnt down to its end. Considered lighting another.

He should keep walking. Nothing good would come of letting Kaito see him this way.

That practical, responsible notion was tucked away to some far corner where he could pretend he wasn’t listening to it. He approached the door. Although he knew how to enter without Kaito letting him inside, he bid to ring the bell anyway.

Would Kaito sleep through it? Armagnac hoped he would. Hoped he wouldn’t. Willed the door to open. Willed the ring to go unheard.

Silence stretched.

He should really leave.

The door opened.

Bright, alert eyes greeted him, as if he had already been awake despite the hour. Indeed, he was still in daytime clothes. There was a smudge on his face that Armagnac just then didn’t have the mental wherewithal to clearly discern the origin of. He smelled like—dye, or ink, or something similar. His expression was lined with wariness.

…Hey.”

Armagnac’s tongue was leaden in his mouth. Instead of speaking, he stepped forward, foot toeing the threshold. Really, he should turn and walk away. Become somebody else’s anonymous, drunken problem. After some hesitation, Kaito stepped back, effectively inviting him in.

Well, he couldn’t leave now.

He wondered what it would take to ruin everything. Probably not much. It felt like everything that mattered to him was suspended in a precarious balance, ever ready for a particularly strong breeze—or impulsive, self-destructive action—to instigate collapse.

Armagnac remained silent and headed inside, slipping out of his shoes mechanically and letting his feet carry him a little further into the house. Kaito lingered by the door, clearly at a loss. After a moment, Armagnac heard Kaito close the door.

He wanted to feel something. Simultaneously, he wanted to disable every sense he had and just _cease_ , at least for a little while.

He needed an anchor or he might drown in this emptiness.

>He started walking further into the house. Kaito abandonded the genkan, was at his heels, but didn’t stop Armagnac, even as he headed for Kaito’s room. Kaito raised questions, but they fell onto deaf ears. He wasn’t sure what he thought he was after, but this is where his feet carried him.

Standing in Kaito’s room, Kaito caught up and came around to face him, regarding him with an unfathomable expression. After a beat, “Have you been drinking?”

Words didn’t come. Kaito kept looking at him. He wanted to be closer. He wanted

He wanted.

He was in Kaito’s space, then, leaning in, bending down so his head rested against Kaito’s. He couldn’t quite bridge the transition from separation to contact, only knew that he was holding the other boy, that he could feel his breath. His hands ran along Kaito’s shoulders, down his arms.

He didn’t mean for it to happen—oh, but didn’t he? Didn’t he decide to come here in the first place?

Hell, he just needed to feel—anything. In his arms, Kaito was frozen, the miracle of moving pieces remarkably stilled. He was heart-stoppingly quiet.

Armagnac moved to bury his face into his neck. His lips brushed against Kaito’s skin. He imagined he could feel Kaito’s rapid pulse. Still, Kaito didn’t move. It felt—wrong. Armagnac’s gut was twisting into knots even as he tried to hold Kaito nearer.

Being pushed away was like a wash of cold water. All at once he released Kaito from his grip and stepped further back. His face was hot. His insides were hollow. He felt filthy. He felt ill. Suddenly, his mind being awash with alcohol-induced stupor was not nearly as comforting as he’d found it moments before. The sluggishness, the impulsivity, the emotionality—he was disgusted with himself.

What had he been thinking? Turning up like this, when the other boy had barely begun to trust him, and letting himself slip so significantly?

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His ears were ringing. He needed to go.

“I’ll take my leave,” he said flatly, several degrees cooler, each word carefully formed. “My sincerest apologies for troubling you.”

As he began to turn, a hand gripped his arm, vice-like. He fought the urge to tear away, and tried to fathom why it was happening.

“—Don’t go,” Kaito demanded. “You can stay. Just don’t—do _that_ , okay?”

Why the hell would Kaito want him here, then?

He was rooted to the spot, though. Kaito was still holding his arm. There was a little tug of insistence.

“Look, let’s just—I don’t know. Have some tea or something? I don’t really care, but you should stay.”

Were Armagnac in a different mindset, he might have taken pleasure in the way Kaito grappled with putting the sentiment into words, like it was difficult for him to say it. Were he in a different mindset, he may have felt a surge of victory at having been asked to stay by someone who, once upon a time, didn’t want him anywhere nearby under any circumstance.

As it was, it only served to make his insides coil up tighter. It did nothing to banish the feeling of filth, of wrongness. Wrongness, because he wanted to stay, and he didn’t feel he should be getting what he wanted just now.

When Kaito released him, he considered leaving anyway. But the other boy’s attention on him had gravitational strength. He couldn’t bring himself to leave, wrapped up in all that, no matter how much he felt he should.

If Kaito wanted it, he would comply.

They stood their in a silent stillness, both waiting for something to happen. Kaito took Armagnac from his shoulders and Armagnac found himself fighting the desire to jump away from the contact, even though moments ago he’d been starving for it. Kaito’s hands eased him into a sitting position on the edge of his bed.

“Just—stay there for now, okay? You’re making me nervous. I’ll be right back.”

Armagnac’s head swam. Sobering the shock of being pushed away may have been, the alcohol was still in his system and bogging him down. His mind was dark, and heavy, and fogged, and desperately, more than anything, he wanted to sleep, and forget.

He lost track of the moment where Kaito left the room, and the moment when he came back, and a mug of something warm was being pressed into his hands. He spent several moments breathing in the tea, and then sipped at it cautiously.

The bed dipped delicately beside him as Kaito sat down.

They sat like that, enveloped in quiet, both drinking their tea. Armagnac half wished he had more liquor to clear out his mind and simplify his feelings. Even like this, he could feel Kaito’s gaze flicking over to him, and then away. Back again, and then away again.

Eventually, Kaito asked, “Are you tired?” Wary. Armagnac wondered if he was walking on egg shells because he expected Armagnac to react badly, or if it was for some other reason.

In answer, he made a noncommittal noise.

Beside him, Kaito’s hands fluttered frustratedly, complicatedly, fingers flexing and then clenching into fists.

Armagnac found himself wondering again if he should leave.

“I think you should sleep,” he said slowly.

Armagnac made another indistinct noise. His tea was gone, and at some point Kaito most have removed the mug from his hand without his notice. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He felt Kaito stop moving beside him, but the other boy didn’t add anything. Armagnac tried to make sense of why he was being invited to stay over after what had happened. Instead of arguing, though, he asked, “Where am I sleeping?”

Clearly, Kaito had expected him to put up some kind of fight, because he seemed to deflate at Armagnac’s acquiescence.

“We don’t have a guest room, so you can just stay in here.” Kaito patted the bed to get his point across.

That sent his mind spinning. He pretended it was just because of the alcohol, even as he tried to puzzle out why Kaito would extend such an invitation, especially after the rejection from earlier. A part of him wished something terrible would happen. He wished he would get what he deserved, instead of the care Kaito seemed to be extending to him. It wasn’t too late, really, to leave and go do something that might feel more—appropriate.

But if Kaito was telling him to stay, he would stay. After a moment’s pause, he acquiesced, climbed into the bed. This, too, Kaito was surprised by, even though Armagnac had clearly already agreed to stay.

The alcohol was good for something, because before he knew it, sleep dragged him down. In those few waking moments before he drifted off, he was vaguely aware of Kaito pulling the blanket up over his shoulder.

—

Armagnac was in his bed.

That it had gotten to this point was honestly pretty unbelievable. How he’d gone from more or less terrified of this person to all but welcoming him into his home was a mystery to Kaito.

Beside him, Armagnac breathed—quiet, slow. He was still and relaxed as he slept. Kaito did his best not to pay too much direct attention. But he couldn’t get to sleep, himself. He could hardly think, beyond the fact of Armagnac beside him.

It was easy to be wary of him, to see him as something dangerous. A living weapon. When he was awake, he could carry himself like a predator. Not to mention the fact that he often _did_. But he didn’t seem so much like one anymore, at least not lately. It had been ages since Kaito had seen that vicious scheming turned toward him.

Armagnac paying him a surprise visit, making clear to Kaito that he knew his identity, knew his schedule and who his contacts were. That had been terrifying. He really thought he was done for, then.

But sometime after that, something about Armagnac’s dangerous guise had lessened. Kaito hadn’t been sure if he was just being treated to a different mask to earn more trust, at first. But Armagnac had lent him information, given him advice, tipped him off to situations where the organization might pose a threat, or situations where he might be able to discretely thwart them without catching attention.

Lately now, Armagnac was still reserved, but a lot less—chilling. A lot less intentionally aggressive. He was still sharp-edged, but he was no longer threatening to cut Kaito. Kaito didn’t really know what to make of him.

But tonight was especially strange.

With how desperate Armagnac had seemed when he came in, Kaito thought something must have gone wrong. Something bad was happening. But when Kaito tried to talk to him, Armagnac wouldn’t say anything about it. He seemed raw, and distant, and off-balance. He seemed _hurt_ , and that was something Kaito hadn’t ever witnessed before. It made him seem vulnerable. It made him seem younger. It made him seem human.

The strangest part of the evening was when Armagnac had moved toward him—and then kept moving toward him, and taken him by the shoulders, and brought their faces close, and Kaito had realized, belatedly, that somehow, he was going for a kiss. Or something like that.

He could still imagine Armagnac’s face buried into his neck. The hot breath on his skin.

He shivered, although it wasn’t a feeling of discomfort that he found himself remembering.

It wasn’t the first time they had been in close proximity like that, but without warning Kaito hadn’t been sure what to do. And neither of them had ever crossed the line so brazenly, before now. Even if he wanted it, he didn’t want it like that—not with Armagnac reeking of alcohol and so obviously drowning in some private misery. Kaito had pushed him away. And that had left Armagnac frozen.

He didn’t seem like a threat. He just seemed like he was hurt.

But somehow, they had gone from that moment to this one. Kaito convinced him to stay, but still he wouldn’t talk about it. Whatever ‘it’ was. If it was even something that could be put into words.

Armagnac had done plenty of bad things. He didn’t go into detail about it, but Kaito knew plenty without Armagnac having to talk about it. And he didn’t exactly keep it a secret from Kaito, even if he didn’t share the gory details. If Armagnac really was working against the organization, as he liked to insinuate to Kaito that he was, then Kaito imagined it must be a special kind of hell, to work for and against them at the same time. Kaito could imagine, as someone who had to bend his principles and hurt the people he loved in his own ways, living his own double life, that it probably too often felt like too much to bear.

Like this, without all of the layers shielding Armagnac away from prying eyes, away from the organization, away from anybody who might see and make sense of him, he seemed—harmless. He was just a boy asleep in Kaito’s bed, not some trained…stalker, or spy, or assassin, or whatever he was.

All at once Kaito was possessed with the urge to run his fingers along Armagnac’s cheek, but he resisted it valiantly. He still couldn’t get the feeling of Armagnac holding onto him—clinging to him like the only thing that might keep him from drowning—out of his head. What would have happened, Kaito wondered, if he hadn’t pushed the other boy away?

A sharp movement from beside him shook him from his reverie. Armagnac had twitched—flinched?—and curled in on himself just slightly. His breathing, was thinner, just a little faster than it had been moments ago. It hitched, and Kaito saw that one of Armagnac’s hands was in a fist, clutching at the fabric of the blanket.   
  
“…Hey,” Kaito hazarded. Nothing happened. He reached out, put a hand to Armagnac’s shoulder.

Armagnac jerked away, blinking unseeingly, and Kaito regarded with surprise and wonder the amount of open emotion in his gaze. Something like fear, or sadness, or a complicated hopelessness.   
  
“—Easy,” Kaito hazarded. “It’s—you had a bad dream. It’s me.” Trying for a bit of good humor, Kaito pinched his own face demonstratively, proving his lack of disguise. “See?”

Armagnac’s gaze seemed to focus on him now, and Kaito saw recognition there. Good, he was awake. Kaito watched him slump—not quite free of tension, but no longer a spring coiled so tight it was about to break.

His breathing was still shallow and fast, like he’d been running. Kaito knew that feeling; he knew it was simple fact that Armagnac had to feel fear sometimes, but he hadn’t realized until now, how human and thus perceptible to human emotions the other boy was.

Kaito waited until Armagnac’s breathing evened out, and then reached until his hand found the other boy’s wrist. Without thinking through the impulse too hard, he eased Armagnac’s arm over him, until it settled across his waist. Armagnac seemed to hold onto him on automatic. Kaito started to roll from his back to his side, to keep Armagnac behind him and perhaps give him some privacy to recover from his bad dream. Instead, though, Armagnac pulled him until Kaito was facing him. They looked at each other in a frozen sort of silence.

They were both afraid to be the first to break it.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kaito put his forehead against Armagnac’s.

Armagnac didn’t pull away. Brown eyes bore into blue.

Armagnac’s eyelashes were light in color, so he hadn’t noticed it before now, but they were so long. Kaito saw Armagnac’s eyes flick down, away from his own.

Armagnac brought his face closer still, and they were breathing the same air, but nothing else was happening yet.

It was Kaito who closed the distance, pressing his mouth to Armagnac’s with caution and uncertainty. Was it alright?

Armagnac’s response told him that it was. He responded with—enthusiasm wasn’t the right word. Desperation. Kaito tempered it, slowing him down, but he let Armagnac pull him close until they were flush against each other.

Kaito allowed himself the small pleasure of tangling his fingers in Armagnac’s soft hair, drinking him in. They were encompassed in warmth, and against all odds, Kaito felt like this was one of the safest places he could be.

Eventually they broke away to breathe, and Armagnac’s face burrowed into his shoulder.

Kaito couldn’t bring himself to think about how much this would change everything. He didn’t think about how stupid it was that he was so apparently attached to someone who was so obviously dangerous and risky. He didn’t think about how much this was going to complicate their lives.

All he could think about was how relieving it was, to finally feel like Armagnac was relaxing. Like something was finally—better. A hurt somewhere was healed, or at least lessened, and they could both breathe now.

They were thoroughly entangled, and—at least for now—Kaito only found it comforting. He noticed when Armagnac’s breathing changed again—this time, the slow, deep, even breathing of sleep.

Finally, Kaito joined him, drifting off himself.


End file.
